Coming Home
by sweetlemonrain
Summary: On a cloudy, musky Thursday afternoon, Teddy is sitting opposite a man in a cafe, with an entire platter of emotions cooking up a storm in her heart. (Slight AU: Teddy's now in Germany with Andrew after leaving her job at MedCom, which she took after she left SGMW at the end of Season 8.)


On a cloudy, musky Thursday afternoon, Teddy is sitting opposite a man in a cafe, with an entire platter of emotions cooking up a storm in her heart.

This man is Jake Burton.

/

Teddy hadn't expected this in the least.

It was supposed to be a normal day, with her taking on the morning shift and finding the time to shop for groceries in the afternoon.

(Andrew wasn't a good grocer, she concluded, after about three times of him returning with nothing but a bag of German cereal.)

So when she finds her day falling off the deep end of anything but normal - what with herself nearly stumbling into the side of her own car, her groceries becoming a flying mess, and a pair of arms coming out to hold her steady - she understandably gave her loudest gasp to date.

Or so she thought. She balances herself, looks up to thank the man in question, and then gives an even louder gasp.

She thinks she's seen Henry.

/

After about what seemed like five hours of nothing but silent eye contact, along with the man trying to shake her conscious, as well as a "Is your last name Burton?" - now she's sitting opposite him in a cafe beside the groceries store.

"So... You knew my twin brother, and he's not here anymore."

She evades eye contact at his concise summary of the mess of words she had unleashed upon him the second they sat down. "Yes," she responds surely, as if putting a latch on the box of memories that still haunts her to this day. Beautiful memories that eventually became mere memories, and not a reality she could've spent the rest of her life cherishing better.

"And you were married to him?"

"I was."

"For the sake of insurance? Hell... But unconventional was always his thing, y'know. Next thing you know he'd be marrying the resident tattoo artist just for her name. 'Roxanne!'" He does a bad imitation of Sting's song, and this gets him a small, restrained fit of laughter from her.

She almost pales at how foreign she sounds. Almost as if she's out of her zone. To be laughing at classic Burton humour; she missed this. A little too much.

He gives a blinding grin in response. "Ah, that's good. You can laugh. I was almost afraid you damaged those laughing cells sometime in life."

"Once thought I did," she mumbles. It comes with a flashback to when she nearly cried herself blind in the quiet, dim operating theatre, holding his lifeless hand and trying to keep herself from desperately, hysterically shaking him awake. She thought she'd never laugh again, until Henry's funeral happened, and she had laughed her whole way home.

"My brother must have really liked you," he suddenly says. It gets her to jerk her head up, almost alarmed at the assertion, although it's something she's known for a long time now.

Whatever was the look on her face, it got him to do a double take. "I mean, I don't mean that in a bad way. I just..." He leans in precariously, face unsure. "I haven't seen him in a long time, and I'm not even sure he knows I exist. I'll blame social services for that, because they thought that out of the few of us, I was the one who was high maintenance." He scowls, smirk visible upon those lips, and she finds herself smiling at the comment. "Maybe I am. So now here I am, in Germany, with extremely good-looking German foster parents. Living the high life, I'd say. Though I'd give anything to meet this wonderful man you just spoke about. But as I was saying," as he makes eye contact with her, "I'm hearing you describe my long-lost twin brother and I just have this feeling that he must have really liked you. Really really."

"I really liked him too."

"Called it!" He does a baseball-related move, she thinks, because she's seen Henry do it before. It's like he was catching a ball. "That's why you pulled a totally awesome, epic romance drama-worthy move of ditching Mister Perfect for

Mister Less Than Perfect. Or, in this case, Mister Husband. Team Henry forever! To hell with Team Arnold!"

It was time for her to do a double take now. "Andrew," she corrects gently. Much of the restraint in her voice came from the fact that he made the same mistake Henry did. Arnold? What was it with these brothers?

"Oh. Right, Andrew. You said he was a doctor?"

"Yes, he is. A psychiatrist, actually."

"You sure he's not moonlighting?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's a rock star, isn't he?" The serious look on his face sends her into a flurry of emotions and she tries to control the flutter in her heart. How is she ever going to get over this?

"He's a doctor. Just a doctor. And he works here in Germany."

"Well... A rock star doctor? Sure he's not one of those?"

She guffaws. "No. He doesn't have the chops for that. Your brother, though... I've heard him doing some serious rocking out in the shower before. He should've been the rock star."

"He'd make a great one. He'd make a great anything, really."

"He made a great husband."

He smiles. "Must've been the best."

"Nothing but the best."

"So," he clears his throat, leaning into the chair. "You live in Germany now?"

"After I left Seattle I went back to the military for a while. Took a job in MedCom. Then Andrew called me again one day and now here I am, in Germany, working in the local hospital like any doctor who doesn't have an actual life outside of her job."

"Wow, you really have a knack for making your kick-ass job sound lame! Didn't you say you were a cardiothoracic surgeon? And you do realise that the local hospital is one of Germany's top hospitals, right? Give yourself some credit, Doctor Teddy Altman! You're talented as hell, and I'm sure my brother would want you to be proud of yourself. He's proud of you."

"There's really nothing glorious about this job. Everyday I see blood and guts, more blood and more guts."

"It's your comfort zone, though. Isn't it?"

He's right. The grotesque nature of her job does put her at ease. Especially after he left this world. Nothing seemed to coax her into ignoring the world around her as well as all the blood and guts did.

"It is."

"So are you happy now?"

/

The question sends her into a moment of silence. It was like all the noise around her, every sound and every voice, seemed to close up and fade into the background. She was starting to lose sight of the man in front of her.

She hadn't asked herself this question since it stopped mattering to her. When happiness started seeming like a far-off, unattainable goal, and all she had to deal with was the loss of her husband, the loss of the one man she truly came to love with every vestige of her. She lost the only source of motivation she had in a long time. And she almost swore off happiness.

Looking at her life now, there was no way for her to conclude what exactly she was feeling. People call it happiness, but she called it contentment. Sometimes, when you lose something or someone, happiness will only ever be contentment for you. Because that little extra magical bit is now gone.

She hadn't stopped to think if happiness was as unattainable now as it seemed then. It took too much out of her to decide whether or not she was ready to keep fighting for that goal.

But maybe today she was finally ready.

/

"No. But I will be."

He takes a sip of the coffee, keeping full eye contact with her. His eyes were almost scarily sure, as if he was reading her and he knew her every move. She let him look at her like that, because she truly missed having someone see her this way. In a way where nothing about her was left to question, in a way where he knew her, and he really did.

"Good. That's all I wanted to hear. That you'll be happy someday. It's what my brother would've wanted for you."

She stares at him, just keeps staring, and slowly feels her hand reaching out for his. He gives her his hand almost naturally.

"It's what I would've wanted for you."

Feeling his hand in hers was surreal. It was like coming home to a home long gone.

"I love you, Henry," she whispers, her grip on his hand tightening.

She thinks she hears Henry in her head, in her heart, telling her he loves her too.

When she lets go, he's still looking at her with those eyes that see nothing but her. She lets herself melt into the circumstance for a moment or two, before straightening herself out. "I have to make a call."

He nods, that same old grin visible on his lips.

/

After Teddy returns from her call to Andrew promising to talk about his marriage proposal from a week ago, she finds only her bag at the table. No Jake, no second coffee cup, no sign of anyone having been in the seat opposite hers.

And she knew then that it must've felt like coming home to a home long gone for Henry, too.

/

_"I love you, too, Teddy. I always will."_


End file.
